


Fluffy Pancakes

by Aithilin



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Cooking, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-13 18:37:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12990117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/pseuds/Aithilin
Summary: Noct manages to wake up early one morning to cook a treat for Ignis.





	Fluffy Pancakes

Ignis was not used to Noctis being awake first. He was not used to waking up to an empty bed and a cooling pillow, the warmth of his lover missing. He was certainly not used to following the sound of cupboards opening and closing in the kitchen— of the fridge being opened and pans being moved around, of plates glasses moved around— to find Noctis not only wide awake, but flipping through one of the cookbooks Ignis had left for him. 

The soft noises of the coffee pot flooding the morning air of the apartment with the promise of one of Ignis’ stashed grounds. Tucked away for special occasions, or hard days when the gourmet mixes were what was needed to help him unwind. Noctis looked up at his approach in surprise, page half turned in his hands as he leaned over the counter, still in his sleep clothes. There were half a dozen ingredients spread out across the counters like a line-up, an inventory, as Noct had made his own preparations. 

“You’re not supposed to be awake yet.”

“Well, when one hears the sounds of a fire hazard—” Ignis stopped himself as Noct turned away at that. As the gentle tease came across more barbed that expected for the morning light. 

Noct had never been the most careful in the kitchen. But he did try. And he had years of watching Ignis work. Years of being dragged away from games and work to help prepare simple dishes for dinners, or dress desserts. Ignis had known, logically, that Noct became capable of making his own meals at some point. He had seen the evidence of it— depleted groceries, dirty dishes, a prince that was not on the verge of starving. 

“Forgive me, I’m still half asleep,” he smiled at the indignant look Noct shot him, turning back to the array of measuring cups and bowls. He settled at the coffee pot, just out of the way where Noct was working, where he could watch as sugar was carefully measured before being unceremoniously dumped into a mixing bowl on top of what Ignis presumed was the flour. He selected his mug from the cupboard and took stock of what Noct was using, what was already out, what was waiting to be mixed together. “What brought this culinary experiment on?”

A shrug was his answer, and he knew that sulk. Knew that he had surprised Noct when he shouldn’t have. That he had struck a nerve as the prince worked— hands steady, even as he checked labels and measurements, with the same preciseness he had used when studying. He lost his excuse to observe as a reminder on the coffee pot alerted them both that the brew was done, and Ignis poured his first mug. He breathed deep over the steam of the brew, enjoying the promise of it, the reminder of where the grounds came from— a gift from his uncle, a Tenebrean blend gifted for some event or another that he had never found an excuse to open. He would thank Noctis for making the excuse for him later.

Fingers curled around the mug, he watched Noct search the drawers of cutlery for a moment before he hazarded his advice. “In the container by the paper towels.”

Wooden spoon retrieved, Noct glanced at him; “Thanks.” 

It was easy to get lost in what Noctis was doing, to watch his methodical measurements and careful blending. To be mesmerised in the way Noct steadied his hands, just as careful with his ingredients as he was with his weapons, with his games, if only a touch less confident. He knew that Noctis was a perfectionist, that he stuttered and froze when the weight of his expectations wasn’t balanced with the results of his work. He had watched Noct stumble before, in training, in school, when faced with the constant reminders that his destiny rode on the tails of his father’s death. And he watched as Noct froze now, a mis-measurement that would lessen the batter he was making, make it runny and wet, and then throw off the expected cooking time. He watched as Noctis hesitated, torn between checking the book for a solution, or pushing on. 

“A touch more flour should do,” he offered, leaning back against the counter and out of the way. “I would use just a quarter cup more. If that much.”

“Iggy… I don’t—”

“I’ll set the table, perhaps?” 

At the little nod, Ignis set his mug down. He watched from the corner of his eye as Noct carefully added a touch more flour to thicken the batter again. He watched, hands around the cutlery still in the drying rack from the night before, as Noct worried his lip until the batter was a more familiar consistency. And he smiled as the sizzle of batter on a hot pan filled the apartment between them. Without him watching Noct so obviously, the prince moved more confidently. He watched for the telltale signs that the pancakes were ready to be flipped and was careful to set the completed ones aside on the plates he had gathered earlier. 

There were no toppings Ignis would have preferred— powdered sugar or berries as he used to like as a child, or the creams Noctis seemed to prefer for the sweetness, the chocolate drizzle often promised at shops and restaurants. But the table syrup, thick and sugary and only an imitation of what both of them remembered from a forested kingdom, was suitable for now. He retrieved his coffee, refreshing the mug before filling one for Noct ad setting both out as he waited. As he could smell when one pancake burned, and another was perfect, the sweetness of the batter sizzling as Noct worked mingled with the sharp taste of the coffee on the back of his tongue. The warmth of the sun making its way across the city and into the open apartment a promise of a warm day. One that he could imagine spent inside with Noctis, an arm around his lover as they enjoyed the peace of a quiet day. 

He hadn’t had a quiet morning in ages. 

“You look like you could fall asleep.”

“Perhaps I could,” Ignis smiles at the informal presentation of the breakfast, the small stack of three fluffy pancakes on his plate. Almost perfect; “but then I would miss this treat of yours.”


End file.
